


Fall

by california_112



Category: Biggles Series - W. E. Johns
Genre: FPC: 13 | Fall, Fifty Prompt Challenge, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: "Hello, chaps," greeted the officer in charge of the movement operation, "I've got a pair of Hurricanes that need to be in Lympne by teatime. Any volunteers?"Ginger rubbed his eyes and sat up, tossing his magazine aside. He had been trying to read an article on something archaeological in Peru, but had kept falling into a doze- this would definitely wake him up. "I'll go."-or-Ginger takes a ferry job, but an incident on the way causes Biggles to worry.ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHINGThis is part of the Fifty Prompt Challenge, 13 - Fall.
Comments: 2





	Fall

In a rare move on the part of the Air Ministry, the well-known 666 squadron had been rotated away from their home aerodrome at Rawlham for a week. It was to give them some rest, and all the members were grateful, even though it wasn't all out leave. They still had some light duties, but it was a welcome change from flying three or four combat sorties a day, and did involve a lot of free time.

One of the light duties was a particular pleasure to many of the airmen. With so many aircraft being lost in battle, replacements were constantly needed, and ferry pilots were in short supply. The job they were offered was simply to fly the aircraft to its destination, then either get a lift or take the train back. It was what Flying Officer 'Ginger' Hebblethwaite called 'fun flying', although not everyone was so sure.

"Hello, chaps," greeted the officer in charge of the movement operation, "I've got a pair of Hurricanes that need to be in Lympne by teatime. Any volunteers?"

Ginger rubbed his eyes and sat up, tossing his magazine aside. He had been trying to read an article on something archaeological in Peru, but had kept falling into a doze- this would definitely wake him up. "I'll go."

"Again?" the officer watched as Ginger donned his flying kit. "You've been on three drop-offs already today!"

"And three yesterday." Henry added.

"Yeah, Ginger, anyone would think you didn't want a break." Tug called, not looking away from his chess match with Biggles.

"I got bored after the first two days." Ginger replied. "At least this is something to do." Turning to put on his mae west, he hid a large yawn.

"I'll take the other," Biggles said unexpectedly, "I'm missing the action as well."

Tug looked personally affronted.

"What about our game?"

Biggles studied the board for a minute, then moved a piece.

"Check mate." he grinned, grabbing his own kit. "I'll rematch you later."

The officer showed the two pilots to the aircraft, a pair of recently reconditioned Hurricanes which now belonged to 509 squadron. Climbing in and starting up, the pair took off in perfect formation and headed south east towards the coast.

To Ginger, the ferry business didn't really feel like work, it was sheer pleasure. This was what he had dreamed about when he'd first set off to join the RAF- being able to fly such wonderfully powerful aircraft as the Spitfire and the Hurricane, and getting paid for it. Roaring through the clear, cloudless air at ten thousand feet, he felt truly happy, and smiled to himself. This was the life.

From high above him, the sun beat down just enough to keep a comfortable temperature in the cockpit, and everything seemed alright. A thin layer of cirrus high above him looked like finely sewn silk, and a bank of cumulus over the channel seemed to take on the texture of a freshly fluffed pillow. Everything seemed so distant, so insignificant…if he could go on flying like this, then what did anything else matter? Even though Biggles was just in front of him to the right, he could have been alone in the world, the last thing alive…it was so peaceful, so quiet. So…green?

"Ginger!"

He stared uncomprehendingly through his windscreen at the greenness that now filled it, and it took him a minute to realise that it was the ground, and he was speeding towards it. Wondering what had happened, he acted on instinct alone to pull out, the sudden g forces almost forcing him to black out, then half-rolled away from an aircraft that was diving down behind him. He suddenly became aware that there was a voice coming over the R/T, and listened to it.

"Ginger, you fool, what the hell was that?"

He shook himself. The other aircraft was another Hurricane- Biggles' Hurricane. He must have fallen into a dive somehow, without realising, and the CO had followed him down.

"Ginger, what happened?" Biggles' voice was insistent, worried. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine…" he replied slowly, and suddenly yawned. "…I think I'm just a bit tired."

"You must be worn out from all these trips…and this was meant to be a week of rest." Biggles said, caringly angry, as they fell into formation again. "If you keep falling asleep, you'll fall out of the sky, and then where will you be."

"Sorry, sir." Ginger said meekly. "I thought this trip would wake me up."

Biggles didn't reply for a minute, checking their course. "We'll be at Lympne in five minutes, you think you'll be alright 'till then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Blushing with embarrassment, Ginger made it thought the rest of the flight with no more incidents, and his touchdown at Lympne was textbook. After handing the aircraft over to the 509 boys, the two visiting pilots climbed into the tender provided, and started their return journey. Biggles turned to Ginger, now more concerned than angry.

"That was a very close call." he said seriously. "I'm going to have to say no more of these ferry outings for you when we get back, the others can take them."

"Yes, sir." Ginger said morosely, annoyed with himself. "I'm sorry about that, I just don't know what happened."

"You're tired, and I'm not surprised, with the amount of work you've been doing on our allotted break." Biggles explained. "You need to get some more rest, rather than being in the air all day and the bar all night. That's just usual operations, we're having a rest from that."

Ginger nodded. He watched the hedges flash by, disappointed in himself that he couldn't even be trusted to stay awake in the air. Biggles next line was completely unexpected.

"When we're back, do you want to play a game of chess?"

"I thought you were going to play with Tug?"

"I'm sure he will have found another partner whilst we've been out."

"Alright…but only if you want to lose."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…"

"You're saying I'm bad at chess?"

"Well, no, but…"

**Author's Note:**

> well that was a limp ending
> 
> I'm aware that the chaps being used as ferry pilots isn't technically accurate, but the central scene stuck in my mind, and I wanted to make it work :'D More accurate works coming soon... ;)


End file.
